“I thought you would have guessed, Sir,” replied the widow, timidly. “I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. However, I've not told you all; for old Van _did_ say something about the child saving his new-found friend's life at the time of meeting; but how that's to happen, I'm sure I can't guess.” “Nor any one else in his senses,” rejoined Wood, with a laugh. “It's not very likely that a babby of nine months old will save _my_ life, if I'm to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. Sheppard. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,--mind that. Of all crafts,--and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,--of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer.” “I don't desire it, Sir,” replied Mrs. Sheppard, meekly. “There's an old proverb,” continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, “which says,--'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow.' But I don't value that, because I think it applies to one who marries a widow with encumbrances; and that's not my case, you know.” “Well, Sir,” gasped Mrs. Sheppard. “Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. All I can say is, it's well meant; and I may add, I'd have made it five minutes ago, if you'd given me the opportunity.” [Illustration: 034] “Pray come to the point, Sir,” said Mrs. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. “I _am_ coming to the point, Joan. The more haste, the worse speed--better the feet slip than the tongue. However, to cut a long matter short, my proposal's this:--I've taken a fancy to your bantling, and, as I've no son of my own, if it meets with your concurrence and that of Mrs. Wood, (for I never do anything without consulting my better half,) I'll take the boy, educate him, and bring him up to my own business of a carpenter.” The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. “Well, Joan,” said the benevolent mechanic, after he had looked at her steadfastly for a few moments, “what say you?--silence gives consent, eh?” Mrs. Sheppard made an effort to speak, but her voice was choked by emotion. “Shall I take the babby home with me!” persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. “I cannot part with him,” replied the widow, bursting into tears; “indeed, indeed, I cannot.” “So I've found out the way to move her,” thought the carpenter; “those tears will do her some good, at all events. Not part with him!” added he aloud. “Why you wouldn't stand in the way of his good fortune _surely_? I'll be a second father to him, I tell you. Remember what the conjuror said.”